


The Golden Lining

by Pameluke



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alpha Magnus Bane, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Body Modification, Body Paint, Drug-Induced Sex, Id Fic, Jewelry, Jewelry Kink, Lots of Buildup, M/M, Mating Rituals, Omega Alec Lightwood, Regency Flavored Fantasy, Ritual Public Sex, Sex Toys, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2019-11-04 23:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17907881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/pseuds/Pameluke
Summary: Alec submits himself to be considered for a political marriage to cement the peace between his people, the Nephilim, and the Warlocks. To be true to himself, Alec is prepared to face the Clave’s judgement and derision, as well as the cultural minefield of Warlock marriage traditions. However, nothing could have prepared him for Magnus Bane and the way the alpha makes his heart beat faster.Suddenly, Alec is looking at more than a cordial arrangement in an unfamiliar society.Suddenly, Alec might have a chance at happiness.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> This is the iddiest fic I ever wrote, so heed the tags.

_I don't want to wait anymore I'm tired of looking for answers_  
_Take me some place where there's music and there's laughter_  
_I don't know if I'm scared of dying but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow_  
_There’s no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on_  
_And you've just gotta keep on keeping on_  
_Gotta keep on going, looking straight out on the road_  
_Can't worry 'bout what's behind you or what's coming for you further up the road_  
_I try not to hold on to what is gone, I try to do right what is wrong_  
_I try to keep on keeping on_

 _I won't take the easy road_  
_Something good comes with the bad_  
_A song's never just sad_  
_There's hope, there's a silver lining_

_Show me my silver lining_

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m putting myself forward as a candidate for the Nephilim-Warlock Peace Union,” Alec announces at the dinner table. Izzy and Jace immediately stop bickering. His mother puts down her wine on the table. “Alec,” she starts, shock audible in her voice. Then she takes another sip to compose herself. Alec suddenly feels the weight of his father’s absence, even though Alec should be used to it by now, and doesn’t care about his father’s opinion anyway. 

But Robert had always been better at dealing with unexpected news. His mother either erupts in disagreement or stews silently, and neither are outcomes Alec wants for this conversation.

Alec doesn’t give her a chance to collect her thoughts. Instead, he forges ahead, listing his prepared arguments on his fingers. “It would be good for our family standing. The dowry offered by the Clave would make our financial situation more comfortable. I’ve got experience with diplomacy, have a spotless record with the Warlocks, have no other betrothal to annul, and there are two other Lightwoods who can carry on the Lightwood name by marrying within the Clave.” Izzy lifts a brow at him, so he adds, “If they want to, of course.”

“So, I’d be the perfect candidate for the Clave, and it would improve our family circumstances.”    
Maryse presses her lips together. “Alexander,” she says. Her tone isn’t quite disappointment. It’s not quite worry either, although Alec knows she must be feeling both. More than anything else, she sounds wistful. She doesn’t argue that she’ll miss him, or that their family wouldn’t be better off without him. “Surely there must be another way. I could introduce you to-”

Alec puts his hands flat on the table, ignoring the need to cross his arms. “I’m never marrying a woman, mother.” He’s relieved with how calm and decisive he sounds, even though it’s the first time he’s ever admitted it out loud.

Everybody’s quiet while the ramifications of his statement settle in their thoughts. They all know that what Alec wants will never be possible with the Clave. He can have secret trysts. He can have affairs, inevitably whispered about at soirees. But he can never have a lawful relationship with a man. Can never declare his love and keep his honor. The Clave is only willing to ignore the Law and turn a blind eye in matters of diplomacy and peace, such as foreign unions for the greater good of the state.

It’s not how Alec wants to live his life, so this is the only way around it.

The silence lasts until it becomes uncomfortable. Alec doesn’t move, doesn’t argue further. 

His mother taps her fingers on the table in a slow pattern, until finally Jace breaks under the tension. “Mother, say something.”

“You’d be marrying Magnus Bane,” his mother remarks, jumping ahead in the conversation, making Alec scramble to catch up. “Apart from the fact that he’s the High Warlock of Brooklyn Forest and his clan is powerful for its size, what do we know about him? He’s respected amongst the Warlocks, yes, but apparently he has quite the reputation with the Clave. You would mate with someone like that?” 

“I know,” Alec says. He’s read up on everything he could find. He knows about Bane’s reputation, which he thinks is mostly political badmouthing rather than actual truth, otherwise Bane wouldn’t be of sufficient rank to be a valid candidate for the Peace Union. Alec’s read about the Brooklyn Forest clan, which is shrouded in mystery for the most part but has historically been peaceful. He’s read up on the duties of an ambassador, the intricacies of the international laws involved, and the rituals he might be partaking in – the border ceremony, the wedding rituals, the offers to their goddess, each as foreign and intimidating as the last. As for the mating itself, he’d never dared to think of being mated, and now that it’s suddenly a possibility, the thought alone is exhilarating.

He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he thinks it will be worth it. If he’s chosen, of course.

“I know,” Alec says again. “And I would. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“All right,” his mother sighs. She’s frowning, so Alec knows she wants to say more, maybe convince him to leave this path he’s chosen for himself. But since his father has left, she seems to have softened somewhat and become less overbearing with her children. “I’ll put in the paperwork.” Across the table, Izzy and Jace are all smiles, his brother jumping up from the table to clap him on the shoulder in enthusiasm. “Maybe you won’t have to be an old spinster after all!”

* * *

Nothing he had read could have prepared Alec for meeting Magnus Bane in the flesh. His reputation might have preceded him, but it doesn’t do him justice. Even from a distance, the man seems larger than life. He’s wearing a deep blue coat with intricate golden detailing, golden shoulder pads, and golden chains. The fabric across his shoulders and biceps strains like it can barely contain all the power within his body. He moves with confidence and grace, and nothing betrays the exhaustion he should be feeling after the long journey to Alicante.

He’s a dash of color and spirit in an otherwise dull and dismal ballroom, and Alec can’t help but be mesmerized.

His heart sinks.

There’s no way Alec can convince someone like Magnus Bane to marry him. He’s so beautiful, so marvelous, and Alec is just… Alec. Too serious, too studious, too steadfast. Too much a gentleman of the Clave for a man like Magnus Bane.

So, when the formal introduction is announced and Alec is faced with the other candidates flocking around the Master of Ceremonies, who are all young, petite, female omegas of good upbringing, he loses the last of his courage. Magnus is called forth, looking even more dashing from up close and Alec panics. Breathing heavily, he retreats to the back of the ballroom, slinking behind a cluster of plants, trying to pull himself together. 

When his heart rate has calmed down again, he wants to kick himself out of shame and disappointment. He’s already lost Magnus without ever speaking to him. 

So, Alec supposes he'll spend the evening like he usually does: watching Izzy dance with her many suitors and mumbling scathing comments about their unworthiness.

He’s doing exactly that when someone bumps into him. Alec, already in the foulest of moods, is ready to kill the person with his ire and turns around to berate them. Which is why he’s utterly unprepared when it’s Magnus standing in front of him, expression apologetic, drink balanced between two fingers. He’s gently swaying those impressive shoulders, while a slowly growing smile lights up his face, and all Alec’s words seem to disappear. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” Magnus says, voice lilting in a seductive cadence. 

“Um- Hi,” Alec says. He can feel how wide he’s smiling, how utterly inappropriate he must look, but he’s not sure how to stop. Or how to speak. Or how to make it clear that he would love to be introduced properly. 

The corners of Magnus' mouth lift, his eyes widening a fraction. "...Which is something that shall have to be remedied immediately," he says, and then turns and disappears into the dancing crowd, leaving Alec alone, his mouth slightly open, not entirely sure what just happened.

He's just decided the whole thing must have been a figment of his imagination when Magnus suddenly reappears, the Master of Ceremonies in tow. Lord Zachariah doesn't hesitate or comment, just proceeds with the usual introductions. "Omega Alexander Lightwood, may I present Alpha Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn Forest."

Alec bows, heart beating rapidly in his chest. When he looks up, Magnus is still curtsying, straightening up with an elegant movement of his hand, rings glittering in the candlelight of the ballroom. "A pleasure, I'm certain," he tells Alec, then to the Master of Ceremonies, "Much obliged, Lord Zachariah." It’s an obvious dismissal, and Lord Zachariah nods politely, then turns back to his usual spot close to the chamber orchestra. The Master of Ceremonies is the busiest man of the evening, and Alec has never had the honor of someone specifically fetching him for the mere pleasure of being introduced to Alec.

"So, now that we've avoided scandal, Alexander Lightwood, we can safely spend the next ten minutes in small talk without feeding the gossips. I’ve only just arrived. It wouldn’t do to start a scandal already.” He looks at Alec expectantly, waiting for Alec to continue the conversation, but Alec's still lost for words, gaping at him. Magnus is standing at a proper distance, nothing untoward in his behavior, and yet Alec can still smell something warm and enticing under the powders meant to mask his scent. They’re in Polite Society – Magnus isn’t supposed to smell of anything, and Alec isn’t supposed to react to his scent. But Magnus smells so good it’s distracting.

"Indeed," Magnus supplies to fill the silence when it has turned awkward. "Not a man inclined towards empty conversation, I see." 

Alec can only shake his head, so flustered that he’s truly lost the ability to speak. 

Something shutters in Magnus face, and Alec closes his hands into fists behind his back, frustrated at his inability to carry on a simple conversation. "Maybe,” Magnus says, “if we’re in want of a more serious subject of conversation and it's not too much an imposition on your time, you could tell me why you didn't let yourself be introduced officially with all the other candidates. After all, I've been hearing your name whispered in all corners since the moment I arrived in Alicante, and I was looking forward to meeting the man willing to turn his back at the Clave’s puritanical laws. Perhaps I did not live up to expectations?” To the casual observer, this must seem like a pleasant conversation. Magnus is still smiling, but up close, it’s sharp and pointed, and the undertone of his scent has turned sour. 

Alec’s shocked because nothing could be further from the truth, and after heaving in a desperate breath, he finally finds his voice. “No, not at all! If anything, it was the opposite! I saw you and I- um. I knew I could never live up to your expectations for a future spouse.” He speaks hastily, leaning forward in his eagerness to convince Magnus of his appeal. He’s close enough that he can smell Magnus’ scent shift to something pleasant at his confession, so Alec promptly steps back, blush rising on his cheeks.  

Magnus regards him, hand fiddling with the golden cuff curving around the shell of his ear. The gesture makes Alec look at Magnus a little better, now that they’re so close. Magnus is wearing golden jewelry everywhere; he has earrings in both ears and rings around his fingers. His shirt is cut scandalously deep with no cravat in sight, his neck bared as if daring anyone to scent him, layered necklaces barely covering up his skin. It’s the same with his wrists, his coat and his shirt not cuffed like Alec’s or those of other Nephilim. Instead, his sleeves widen, and like his neck, his wrists are tantalizingly bared, his scent glands only covered by a multitude of golden bracelets.

Alec flushes even more, licking his lips.

“Hmm,” Magnus hums, snapping Alec’s attention back to him properly. “In that case, I apologize for being so forward and disgruntled, and I shall simply be glad we were introduced after all. Now, since we’ve so neatly avoided both scandal and presumptions, it seems there is only one course of action left to us.”

Alec stands up straighter, catching himself again at having leaned forward in an attempt to catch more of that warm scent. “Which would be?” he inquires.

“To dance, of course. Would you do me the honor of sharing the next dance with me?”

“That would be delightful,” Alec says, then takes a step back in utter horror at his own forwardness. And the fact that he agreed to dance.

He hasn’t danced since he was presented at his first Season, when he was led around the ballroom by eager alpha debutantes, who’d smiled up at him while he’d tried to keep from stepping on their toes and simultaneously avoid any of them taking an interest in him. He’d been relieved when the Lightwood name had lost some its charm, thanks to his father’s affair, and had only started to breathe freely again when he’d been firmly placed in the confirmed bachelor category. Occasionally, an alpha will bat her lashes at him, but his dour demeanor manages to chase all of them away eventually.

Before Alec has time to make up a proper excuse, the music changes, and the orchestra plays the introduction to the next dance. Magnus bows at him and offers his arm, and there’s nothing for Alec to do but let himself be led to the dance floor at the center of the ballroom, trying to ignore the chorus of whispers in their wake. 

Alec doesn’t even have time to panic about his dancing skills because the moment he’s taken his place in the line, the music swells and everybody curtsies. Then, Magnus steps forward, perfectly in step with his line, and the grace of his movements is so beguiling, Alec finds himself moving on autopilot, feet following the familiar patterns as his heart hammers in his throat.

He is dancing. With a man. An alpha man. In public. 

In front of him, Magnus twirls around, feet bringing him closer and closer to Alec until they have to swerve around one another, hands lifted but never quite touching. For a moment, Magnus is so close that Alec can feel the warmth of his proximity, so close Alec can almost taste that rich, warm scent that refuses to be tamed by the powders meant to mask it, so close that Alec’s fingers flex with the need to touch him. Though the dance separates them again, that short moment is enough to leave Alec breathless. He forgets about the people whispering about them, the people watching, the people dancing in the lines with them. All Alec sees is the warmth of Magnus’ eyes, the glint of his smile, the way his back presses against Alec’s for a moment, letting Alec can feel his solid presence.

Alec doesn’t stumble or step on Magnus’ feet. He doesn’t miss directions, nor does he take a wrong turn. 

He just dances.

All too soon, it’s the last turn. Magnus is so close they’re almost touching, their arms almost intertwined. It’s different, dancing with a man, mostly because Magnus is almost as tall as him so they’re dancing eye to eye. Which means that Alec notices when Magnus’ gaze dips down to Alec’s lips. Alec’s eyes drop as well, first to admire that tempting pink mouth, then even lower, to his bare neck and the jewelry draped over his chest. They’re so close now that Alec would only have to move a little to press his nose against that spot, to really breathe Magnus in. 

Surely no one would see.

Alec bends his head slightly, their last turn giving him forward momentum. He can hear Magnus gasp slightly, feel Magnus' exhale on his cheek. Then, just before Alec actually touches Magnus, the dance wrenches their bodies apart, each ending up at their starting position. 

Alec’s chest is heaving, his cheeks flushed and getting darker still. He starts clapping his hands in the traditional applause a couple of beats too late, and he doesn’t quite know where to look. He doesn’t want to face the judgement of the Nephilim onlookers. But looking at Magnus feels dangerous right now, like the spell the dance had cast over them might return as though it were actual magic, and Alec might do something monumentally stupid like scent Magnus in public. Or more.

Alec bows at the people standing next to him, then at Magnus, without looking him in the eye when they’re straighten up again. When Magnus approaches him, offering his elbow, Alec panics. Magnus is so alluring that Alec had nearly forgotten all basic propriety and gentility. He’s supposed to make a good impression to convince Magnus he’d be a reliable and steadfast partner, and here he is, making an ass of himself like he’s an omega debutant overwhelmed at his first ball.

“A pleasure,” Magnus says pleasantly, guiding Alec away from the dance floor. “Can I offer you a drink? Refreshments?”

“Yeah,” Alec croaks, more to the first than to the latter. Then, his mother’s lessons on etiquette come back to him unbidden. “Thank you, sir. Water would be lovely.” Alec doesn’t think he needs to add alcohol to his already overheated system.

Magnus smiles at him, a warm and gentle thing, then disappears towards the bar.

Alec inhales deeply, suddenly very aware of all the pointed looks directed at him and how his flushed skin must betray how little control he has over his emotions and instincts. He winces and clasps his hands behind his back, pretending to look at the dancers while he anxiously awaits Magnus’ return. He must do better. Behave himself properly.

His mother finds him first, alas. He braces for her judgement, readies himself for her to call the whole thing off. Instead, she just stands next to him for a moment of quiet support, offering Alec the comfort of her scent, faint but so familiar to him that he can identify it out even under the masking powders. 

“You danced well,” Maryse says. “But please, keep yourself composed, Alec. It wouldn’t do to sweat through your powders. That’s no way to present yourself as a possible partner. You’re a Lightwood; act like one.”

Alec closes his eyes, biting back an embarrassed groan. When he opens them again, Magnus is approaching, drinks in hand, two women in tow whom Alec doesn’t know by name. 

“Refreshments,” Magnus announces. He offers a drink to Alec, and then offers his own to Maryse, who politely refuses. She doesn’t move away though, apparently having decided that Alec’s been left unchaperoned long enough for the night. In a way, it warms Alec’s heart because it means she’s taking this seriously.

But mostly, he finds it inconvenient because it means that Alec can’t apologize to Magnus for his behavior, can’t explain that normally he’s more reserved and polite but that he’d never danced with a man before...  and how much it means to him that they did.

The women join the conversation as well. Alec is too distracted to catch their names, but he’s smart enough to realize that the young omega woman is another candidate to be wedded to Magnus, and the beta woman with her is her mother, who’s quite determined to bring Magnus back onto the proper path of female omegas. Alec’s unable to school his face, his glaring disdain probably too obvious to be polite, but he can’t help it. This woman represents everything he wants to get away from and makes him regret his panicked reactions at the start of the evening. He should have let himself be introduced with the other candidates to make it clear he’s serious about his interest.

It’s even worse when Magnus bids his goodbyes after another ten minutes of pleasant but utterly inane conversation, moving on to other people. It’s completely expected and utterly proper. Magnus meeting all his suitors is the purpose of the evening, after all. And yet, it’s only his mother’s gentle hand on Alec’s forearm that keeps him from walking after Magnus.

When Magnus dances with another omega, Alec is torn between admiring his form and glaring at his partner, the other dancers, and the musicians who’ve chosen too long a song. When he realizes he’s ripping a napkin between his clenched fingers, he knows he’s in trouble. When Magnus smiles at the girl he’s dancing with, Alec’s heart drops to his stomach, and he finally looks away.

He should have known the likes of him would never be able to catch the eye of a man like Magnus Bane.

* * *

Alec’s still cursing himself two days later. His only job had been to make a good impression, and he’d completely failed. Even worse, Magnus was stupidly likeable and had seemed like someone Alec would actually enjoy spending time with, unlike most people. That had been his only chance to get out, to have the kind of life he wanted, and he’d butchered it.

He’s trying to focus on the household accounts, since his father has pretty much left them all to their own devices, and neither Jace or Izzy have the head for it. If he’d left to marry a Warlocks and moved to Brooklyn Forest, they would have had to find someone else to worry about their finances. So maybe it’s for the best. Alec sighs and stretches his neck. His eyes land on the golden paperweight. It reminds him of the gold of Magnus’ necklaces, which had kept drawing his eyes. His shirt had been cut low, leaving his collarbone daringly bare. If Alec closes his eyes, he can still see Magnus so clearly. He even remembers how Magnus had smelled. Maybe his smell had been so clear because there was so much skin on display.

Alec isn’t used to being this physically attracted to people. It still feels liberating somehow, the simple fact that the man in front of him had been a Warlock, someone he was allowed, albeit begrudgingly, to be attracted to, making it all a little bit easier.

They’d only spoken for twenty minutes, and Alec had been a nervous wreck for all of them, but still, he had felt free.

He can still smell Magnus, taste that enticing scent on his tongue.

“Warlock Bane is here to see you, Alec,” Jace says from the door of the office.

Alec stands up, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste. “Magnus is here? Where is he? Did he state the nature of his visit?”

Jace smirks. “I imagine he’s here to woo you. You must have made quite the impression. Didn’t know you had it in you, brother.” He holds out his arms to embrace him, but Alec ignores him. If Magnus is here, he has no time for Jace’s silliness.

“He’s in the drawing room, I think.”

Alec pushes past Jace, straightening his collar, making sure his shirt is straight and his sleeves are free from ink-stains.

He freezes when he enters the drawing room. Magnus is actually there, standing by the mantel, looking like a mirage of shiny fabric and jewelry. 

“Hi,” Alec starts. “Um- Alpha Bane, welcome. Can I offer you something to drink?”

Magnus looks up at Alec’s voice. His eyes are darkly lined with kohl, eyelids painted a dark, shimmering blue. He smiles, and although it’s not the bright, broad smile from when they first met, it’s still warm and gives Alec butterflies.

Alec swallows. He motions to a settee and pours them both a drink. He doesn’t have anything fancy like the drinks that had been served at the ball, but he can offer his father’s whiskey.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus says, sitting down on the same couch as Alec instead of across of him like Alec was expecting. He’s not sitting too close - still within bounds of what is considered proper – but it’s close enough that Alec can smell him. It’s the same warm, rich scent he remembers, the notes of it clearer now that they’re not surrounded by hundreds of people. It’s so good that it almost makes the whiskey palatable. Alec still doesn’t quite manage to hide his grimace as he takes a sip, though, and Magnus must notice because he smiles into his glass.

“How can I be of service?” Alec eventually asks, when Magnus hasn’t made his purpose clear, nor has he started a gentlemanly kind of smalltalk.

“You’re a difficult man to read, Alexander.” Magnus runs his fingertip over the rim of his glass. He looks serious, pensive. It’s a different look on him, but Alec finds he likes that there’s more to Magnus than meets the eye.

“I don’t actually think I am.” Alec shrugs. “I’m not that complicated.”

“Agree to disagree, I presume. With all the other candidates, it’s easy to tell what they want from an arrangement like this. Social climbing, increasing the importance of their family name, getting away from scandal, running from debt. You’re the only one I’m not sure of.” He takes another sip, emptying the glass and turning towards Alec, crossing his ankles. He looks comfortable and at home, in all respects too familiar and at ease, but his eyes are focused and a little bit wary.

Magnus is turning out to be a man comprised of contradictions.

Alec isn’t sure what to say. All those reasons Magnus mentions are somewhat true for him too. The Lightwood name can use the boost from the pity and admiration that Alec’s ‘sacrifice’ will bring, which they need after the scandal of Robert abandoning his wife and family. The state dowry will help deal with Robert’s absence as well. Only... while those are definitely the reasons that made Maryse agree to Alec’s proposition, they’re not the reasons Alec chose to put himself forward as a candidate.

Alec hesitates and licks his lips but decides that honesty is probably best in this kind of situation. He still doesn’t quite believe he’s got a chance, but if he and Magnus do end up having some kind of relationship, he wants it to be one built on truth and honesty.

“Life here in Idris,” he starts but breaks off, biting his bottom lip. Magnus is sitting very close, and there’s no way to hide how uncomfortable he is. “The Clave is very strict about the Law and can be quite oppressive.” He’s measuring his words because he doesn’t want to speak ill of his own people, not when the position he’s aiming for is of a diplomatic nature. “The Law is often just. We follow it for internal peace and prosperity, after all, but sometimes, it can be quite outdated. Prudish is what you called it, I believe.”

Magnus nods in recognition of his own words, but otherwise, his face betrays none of his feelings on the matter, even though he berated the Clave in jest only days before. He must mean this discussion to be a serious one, and the realization makes Alec more determined to explain himself as well as he can. 

“It is expected of me... that I marry,” he tries, but Magnus, though listening attentively, doesn’t otherwise react. Alec takes a deep breath. “I’m expected to marry a nice alpha girl - preferably of a good house - to bolster our reputation.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I could never do that. There’s no happiness to be found for me in marrying a woman.”

Alec finally looks up. He looks into Magnus’ eyes. “There’s no happiness for me here. I know we haven’t been acquainted long, but with you… our customs may be different, and our people might often be diametrically opposed, but nevertheless, I feel…. I feel as though,  with you, there’s at least the possibility for happiness... contentment, at the very least.”

For a moment, Magnus looks utterly stunned. Then, he schools his face again into neutral politeness. He picks up his glass, even though it’s empty, putting it down again when he notices there’s nothing left for him to drink.

“Alexander,” he says, but he doesn’t continue.

“I’m sorry if that was too forward. These arrangements aren’t supposed to be about personal motivations.” Alec looks down, disappointed that he misunderstood and only managed to alienate Magnus more with his too personal confessions.

“I disagree,” Magnus says unexpectedly. “Any marriage, political or not, should always be about those joining their lives together. There’s no way for the union to last, to bring peace for our people as intended if those involved have no personal motivation or interest in making it work.”

He scoots a little closer, reaching out to grab Alec’s hand into his own. His thumb caresses Alec’s pulse point for a moment, nearly stroking the small scent gland there, and Alec has to swallow down a gasp. His eyes dart to the open door leading into the hallway, but there’s no one approaching. If they’re caught like this, and Magnus doesn’t marry him… Alec will be ruined.

And yet, Alec doesn’t pull his hand away.

“So, you see,” Magnus continues as though he’s unaware how his touch is affecting Alec, “your personal reasons are as important as the political ones. They matter.  _ You _ matter to me, Alexander.”

Alec finds himself leaning forward, trying to get closer to Magnus’ warmth and enticing scent. They’ve long since crossed the borders of propriety. They’ve spent too long unchaperoned, too long in this compromising position… surely, it won’t matter anymore if Alec leans forward and scents Magnus, if he presses his nose against all that bare skin. But he holds himself back at the last moment. He can’t truly entangle them in scandal before they’ve even started. He wants to do this properly. Genuinely.

So, he stands up and moves toward the fireplace, pretending it’s the heat of the fire making his face red. He has to scramble to get his thoughts in order.

Magnus smiles, standing up from the couch as well. Alec watches him come closer, mesmerized by the way he moves his hips as he walks, the way his trousers cling to his muscular thighs. Alec’s mouth suddenly goes a little dry.

Magnus stops, and once again, he’s just a little too close to be respectable. His scent is clouding Alec’s senses once more, but it’s mostly the warmth in his eyes when he speaks that makes Alec breathless. 

“You know, while I treasure the chance at a truer peace this arrangement would give our peoples and I feel my duty as High Warlock keenly, no one could force me into this. If there weren’t any viable candidates, my people would expect me to return alone.”

Alec frowns a little. He’d always thought of the arrangement as a mutual necessity between the two people, but Magnus is right. The Clave is more desperate for the continued peace. They need the Warlock border secure, need access to the Warlocks’ magical resources. The Warlocks wish for peace as well, but except for being left alone, they don’t require anything from the Clave.

The idea that if Alec’s not good enough, the arrangement might not happen at all makes him slightly uneasy.

“Nevertheless, Alexander,” Magnus says, interrupting Alec’s thoughts, “I find myself intrigued, much to my own surprise since I had no high expectations of the people the Clave might propose. But it seems you’ve unlocked something in me, and I find myself…” Magnus trails off. He’s still standing slightly too close, his gaze unguarded, looking at Alec through his lashes. He seems bashful, which isn’t a look Alec expected from Magnus. It makes Alec want to touch him so much more. 

Alec has to clasp his hands behind his back to hold himself back from reaching out. “I- Um. Magnus, I-” Alec doesn’t know how to react. He’s never made anyone feel anything before. They’re considering an arranged marriage for reasons of state. Feelings aren’t supposed to be involved.

Magnus holds up his finger, nearly pressing it against Alec’s parted lips. Alec has to close his eyes to keep himself from moving forward and kissing that finger.

“Alexander, there’s no need to decide now. Let’s do this through the official channels. Let me woo you as is proper and expected.”

Alec feels himself flush. “Woo me?”

Magnus winks at him, then curtsies. Alec returns the curtsy on autopilot, hands clasped behind his back.

“I’d like what you want,” Magnus says. “A chance at happiness.” With a last smile for Alec, he walks out of the drawing room, hips swaying slightly. Alec licks his lips, staring after him.

Maybe he’ll get a chance at happiness after all.

  
  
  



	2. The Betrothment

That evening at dinner, Maryse clears her throat. “Well,” she says. “It would seem that Alec has made an impression since I got a letter from Warlock Bane formally stating his intent to court Alec and asking my permission to do so.” She turns to Alec, a barely-there smile curling her lips. “I’ve granted his request. If this is the path you’ve chosen for yourself, Alec, I won’t be the one standing in your way.” She’s silent for a moment, then raises her glass in a toast. “Congratulations, Alec. You’ll be the Clave’s ambassador to the Warlocks. I hope your choices make you happy.”

Alec thinks of Magnus’ warm eyes, his enticing scent, the way Magnus talks to him like he’s the one who’s interesting and intriguing. Alec’s smiling broadly just thinking about him.

“I think they will. I think I’ll be happy.”

* * *

Since it’s a political wedding – and more importantly, a state wedding – the wooing, as such, is disappointingly sparse. The particulars of the wedding contract are all negotiated by the Clave. There’s no need for Magnus to convince the House of Lightwood that he’ll be a good husband and a caring alpha. There’s no need to hash out the dowry, no need to come to terms about inheritances and deciding who’ll join whose house or whose name the children will bear.

All of those particulars are decided by the nature of the agreement. Except for Alec being a man marrying a man, they’re fairly traditional in any case: Alec is joining his alpha’s household, foregoing his position as first heir of the family. Once his mother is no longer able to be the Head of Lightwood House, Izzy will take over. It feels like a natural arrangement since Izzy is well-suited for leadership and the task of wrangling their headstrong, stubborn siblings. Alec knows he’s leaving his family in good hands. Izzy will take good care of them.

Alec gets a higher security clearance, which mostly involves sitting in on endless meetings regarding the ins and outs of the marriage contract, as well as one-on-one sessions with various Council members telling him what not to disclose to the Warlocks. Alec doesn’t think the Warlocks will be interested in the particulars of the intersection between common Nephilim practice and the Clave Law, but he doesn’t comment. Finally, he’s called in for a briefing with the Inquisitor. He’s told it’s a great honor, but it essentially consists of a lecture on what information he’s supposed to gather if he gets the chance (“without spying of course)” which he completely ignores – he’s not going to spy on his future husband and his family – and how he’s supposed to comport himself when present with other state and clan officials. He thinks of the way Magnus behaved both in public and in private, and hides his smile in his handkerchief.

Magnus and the other Warlock representatives have already started the journey home again, so it’s a surprise when the flowers arrive at the house. They’re not the traditional roses or tulips of courting but a bouquet filled with hibiscus and lilies. There’s a little note attached, addressed to A. Lightwood.

> Alexander,
> 
> Their scent reminded me of you.
> 
> I eagerly await your arrival and the chance for a closer acquaintance as we embark upon this journey, entwining our lives and fates.
> 
> In the interim, I shall remain
> 
> Cordially yours,
> 
> M.B.

Alec doesn’t let anyone else read the note. He puts it in his pocket and carries it around all day. That night, he finally caves, pulling it out to trace the words with his finger, pressing his nose against the paper, looking for a trace of the alpha’s scent that’s now ingrained into his senses.

He wonders if Magnus has a bouquet like this one - now standing on his dresser - to remember him by, wonders if this is really how he smells to Magnus or if Magnus was just flirting when he wrote the note. Probably a combination of the two, Alec thinks.

The time passes quickly, each day filled with endless meetings and cultural training, each evening spent packing up his meager belongings even though he barely gets to keep any of it, each night occupied with thoughts of Magnus.

Before Alec knows it, the day of his departure has arrived. Izzy’s been in tears for days but is holding herself together today, her smile fierce, not a hair out of place. Max keeps randomly hugging Alec, all the while asking innumerable questions about Warlock culture which Alec can’t answer yet. Jace pretends they’ll see each other tomorrow but keeps slapping Alec on the back a little too hard.

Robert is conspicuous by his absence, but Alec reasons that the political advantages of this marriage aren’t enough for his father to forget that Alec will be marrying a man. Heedless of the irony (considering his own transgressions against the Law in forsaking his family for his mistress), Robert has always had a deep contempt for those who don’t live their life by the letter of the Law. It’s similar now. As a state-sanctioned diplomatic arrangement, Alec’s marriage is technically within the law, and his father’s absence is almost better gossip than the fact that Alec is marrying a man. Robert has to know that, yet he refuses to bend, unwilling to attend Alec’s farewell, his personal prejudices stronger than the desire to rebuild his name.

Maryse has been quiet these last couple of days, taking a lot of the administration on her shoulders. She’s still quiet now as she watches Alec’s crates being stuffed in the carriage that’ll take him to Warlock country.

Izzy and Jace might visit occasionally. They’re adventurous enough for that. Max will write and will make sure he gets his questions answered. But Alec isn’t entirely sure he’ll see his mother again. Now that the time for their goodbyes has come, Alec finds himself mourning the conversations they could have had. 

He hugs his siblings a last time and wipes a couple of stray tears of Izzy’s cheeks, careful of her makeup. Maryse’s back is stiff as a ramrod, her hands lowered, her shoulders straight, her scent muted, every inch the matriarch alpha. Alec doesn’t know how to say goodbye to her. She brush some stray strands of hair from his forehead and takes a moment to look at him, giving him a considering once-over. 

“Are you quite sure, Alec? Is this what you want for yourself? We can  still call it off.”

Alec gapes at her. He can tell she means it. Calling the marriage off at this stage would ruin their entire family, but his mother is willing to do it – heedless of the political ramifications and social consequences – out of love for him.

“I am sure. I think he can make me happy, mother.” It’s the closest Alec can get to explaining how he feels about Magnus – to explaining that, for the first time in his life, he feels truly hopeful about the possibility of happiness, of companionship, maybe even love, although his brain shies away from even the thought of that last one.

He thinks Magnus might be worth it: worth leaving his family behind, worth suffering through all the Clave and Warlock protocols, worth taking on an impossible job as a diplomat between two very different peoples. 

Maryse wraps her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. Her fingers bite into the meat of his back like she’s never going to let him go. Her usually comforting,subtle scent is thick and heavy around him, filled with distress and sorrow but tinged with something hopeful. When she finally pulls back, there are unshed tears in her eyes. Alec has never seen her look this vulnerable.

“All I ever wanted for you was to be happy, Alec. It killed me that you never quite were. So please, be happy.”

Alec has to swallow down his own tears, his lips trembling. “You too, mother. You deserve to be happy.” He hugs her again and feels Izzy wrapping herself around them both, until they’re all holding each other and crying. Leaving his family behind breaks his heart more than he thought it would.

Alec’s vision is blurry as he walks to the carriage that will convey him to Brooklyn Forest. He wrestles back the heavy curtains while the carriage takes off, and when the windows are finally bared, all Alec can see is four dark figures waving at him, their faces no longer recognizable as they recede into the distance. Despite knowing they can’t see him, he still waves back.

“Goodbye.”

* * *

The journey to Warlock country is long and tedious. Alec has never much enjoyed travelling because there’s nothing to do while sitting in a carriage. The anticipation he’s feeling isn’t making it easier. He can’t quite find a comfortable position and keeps fidgeting in his seat, the tapping of his shoes on the wooden floorboard making him even more antsy.

It’s partly because, though he vaguely knows what to expect, he can’t quite imagine it yet. He’s read up on the ceremony and rituals involved, but since they’re so far from what he knows and is familiar with, it all seems somewhat unreal. Long before he learned such things were impossible, Alec used to dream about meeting a man who would sweep him off his feet, someone he’d get to kiss and love and be happy with. It had broken his heart to give up on those dreams, and now here he is, riding towards exactly the kind of man he used to dream about.

Alec knows they don’t really know each other, knows there’s more politics at work in their union than romance, but still, he can’t help but be excited. He hasn’t felt this filled with hope since he was a child.

Somehow, nervous thoughts about Magnus’ hands, his eyes, and their uncertain future make the journey fly by because he arrives at the border much sooner than he’d anticipated. Or maybe it’s the magic of the carriage, Alec can’t be sure.

There are several tents set up for the Border Crossing ceremony. Alec swallows. This is truly where he’ll leave his home behind. Not only physically but also figuratively and magically. That’s what this ceremony is about; Alec is meant to break all ties with his former homeland and family and be cleansed of anything that might bind him to others. In order to marry into a Warlock clan, he can’t be part of the Clave any longer.

The closest tent is familiar, a standard Clave field tent. Taking a deep breath, Alec steps inside. There are two Clave officials waiting to help him prepare. They’re both omegas as well, which means the tent is filled with the comforting scent of omegas at ease. Alec’s relieved. Though he’s willingly departing from the Clave, leaving is still difficult and distressing. He’s been dreading undressing himself in front of strangers, imagining standing in front of two stern alphas judging all his choices while he’s naked with no way to hide anything, his scent betraying all his emotions. At least having omega officials will make it more bearable. 

One of the officials holds out his hands to take Alec’s coat. Alec hesitates. If he proceeds, there is no more way back. This is his last chance to abort the whole thing and go home, back to Alicante and his family, to everything he knows. 

Alec takes his coat off and hands it to the dark-haired man. He’s made up his mind.

He undresses quickly, until he’s standing completely naked in the tent. The officials wash him thoroughly, leaving no stretch of skin or crevice untouched, which is awkward for everyone involved, but Alec powers through the embarrassment. Once he’s clean, free even of masking powders and sweat, the officials approach him, steles in hand. Alec bites his lips. Of all the rituals involved, this is the one he’s been dreading most. Deruning is supposed to be exceedingly painful, plus he had never thought he’d get rid of any of the runes marking his body. It feels like losing a limb.

The officials stand back, looking at him with pity. Alec doesn’t want that, so he doesn’t hesitate this time, nodding to them so they’ll proceed. It’ll be worth it. Magnus will be worth it. He has to be worth it.

“We’ll work simultaneously,” the youngest of the the officials tells him. “I’ll remove the Angelic Rune, removing your magical ties to the Clave, Danae will mark you with the Ambassador Rune, so you’ll be recognised as such, and you’ll still have a connection to the Angels.”

Alec nods, taking a deep breath to steel himself. He’s allowed to keep his other runes – he won’t have access to a stele until after he’s married, as a Warlock stipulation in case he’s an undercover agent using the marriage as a charade to access Warlock territory for some nefarious purpose – so it’s not a complete deruning. And yet he almost steps back when the officials step closer, their steles in hand.

Alec closes his eyes. The pain is even worse than he had imagined, so terrible that he doesn’t even notice the new rune being burned into his skin. By the time the officials are done, there are tears in his eyes, and the scent of his distress is filling up the tent. The procedure probably only takes a couple of minutes, but it feels like it goes on for hours, each second filled with excruciating pain and loss as Alec’s connection to his people is slowly severed, leaving him feeling alone and unmoored.

When Alec can finally focus on his surroundings, the officials have stepped back again. They’re standing by the table with the ceremonial offerings. In reality, two carriages of  carefully vetted, Clave-approved items have already been sent to the Warlocks as dowry, and about the same amount has been sent to the Clave by the Warlocks in return. But even political marriages of a mercantile nature have to go through the motions to preserve the necessary traditions. Alec is allowed to bring three offerings of his own to Warlock country, the only things of a personal nature he will be permitted to keep. Everything else binding him to the Clave needs to be left behind as part of the border crossing ceremony. 

Alec had thought long and about what he would bring, because while the three offerings are the only personal items he can bring, they’re also supposed to be gifts to his future mate, expressing Alec’s wishes and blessings for their union. So, he had gone back and forth, unable to settle on what blessings would be both proper and please Magnus, what items would double as gifts and personal mementoes for Alec to remember his house by.

In the end, Alec had decided to go with his gut and not worry about what anybody else would think of it. He might be entering into a formal arrangement born out of matters of state, but the marriage is still between him and Magnus. It’s still personal, no matter how many people have been involved in the arrangements. The affairs of his heart are still his own.

So, Alec had settled on Safety, Home, and Protection as the blessings he wanted to bring to  their union. It might be considered more proper to vary one’s blessings in scope, but Alec’s choices feel right, as though he is being true to himself, so he does not waver. For Safety, he’s picked his bow and quiver, the ceremonial weapon he was gifted when he came of age, to show he’s capable of keeping their home and people safe.  As a blessing for their Home and future family, he’s brought the first pillow of his crib and the cornerstone of his nest in Alicante, which he intends to use as the start of the nest he’ll build in his new home. For Protection, he has selected an omamori charm to show that he cares about Magnus as a person and that Magnus’ wellbeing is important to Alec. 

The items are packed into simple wooden boxes, which he’ll hand over to the Warlock officials in the other tent, where they’ll be unpacked again. Alec himself will cross to the other tent naked as the day he was born. It’s an old custom, born of superstition and the belief that different kinds of magic can pollute each other. No one Alec knows still holds to those beliefs – although Alec suspects half of the Clave gentry still believes Warlock magic to be something unclean – but it’s customary and embedded in protocol. 

So, Alec nods to the two Clave officials in gratitude and carries his boxes out of the tent into the cold. It’s only twenty feet to the Warlock tent, and about halfway across, Alec thinks he can sense the border. It’s barely noticeable unless one is looking for it. It’s not even quite a sensation, just something like static making all his hair stand on end as he passes through what he imagines are invisible wards. Or maybe that’s the cold and he’s imagining it all.

Luckily, the Warlock tent is agreeably warm when he enters it, lit with some kind of fairy lights floating at the top of the canopy. It smells different from the Clave tent, a little earthier with notes of herbs and spices Alec doesn’t recognize. But here as well, the scent of other omegas is soothing.

There are two of them, each dressed in an official-looking gown of rich brocade. Alec feels very naked in comparison.

“Hi, I’m um, Alec.” 

The man with the small horns lifts a brow at him, and Alec is immediately, starkly reminded of his manners. Blushing and awkwardly holding the boxes against his stomach, he bows. “I mean… Alexander Lightwood. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The man still doesn’t look impressed, but the woman smiles and they both return his curtsy, so absolute disaster has been averted for now. “Catarina Loss,” the woman introduces herself, “and this is Elias Balt. Let me take that from you.” She grins cheekily at Alec while she reaches Alec’s boxes, not quite touching him. Somewhere in Alicante Alec’s mother is frowning in disapproval at her informal tone, but it sets Alec at ease. She reminds him of Magnus in the way she throws Clave decorum to the winds. He hands her the boxes, and she opens them without ceremony, placing Alec’s gifts on the table. 

“Ritual cleansing first,” the man says. Alec doesn’t think he could possible have become dirty in the ten minutes since the Clave officials cleaned him, but doesn’t object. It’s all part of the ritual.

The official lights some incense, waves it in Alec’s direction, then claps his hands. There’s a rippling sensation all over Alec’s skin, and suddenly Alec feels deeply, thoroughly clean, as if it’s the cleanest he’s ever been in his life, as though even the insides of his pores have been brushed. It’s somewhat disconcerting, especially because there’s suddenly a complete absence of his own scent. Alec sniffs his own wrist, but his skin smells like nothing. Eyes wide, he clasps his hands behind his back, squeezing his fingers together in an attempt to fight back his nerves. 

Catarina comes forward with a tray filled with gold jewelry. “Nephilim have runes. In the same way, Warlocks have warlock marks to tell you who we are and ornaments to tell you of our status relative to our clans and our people. Technically, as an outsider, you don’t have any status and are considered  _ Nequites _ , without worth or position. Without status, you can’t be part of a clan, and without a clan, you can’t wed and you’d never be taken seriously as an Ambassador. Especially because you’ll never be a warlock. Which is why there’s this whole tedious rigmarole involving dowries and gifts and negotiations.” Catarina sighs, as if she’s been exposed to as many endless meetings as Alec has been. “You’re marrying Magnus, which does help, since spousal status can be conferred to some degree. And due to his high rank, the threat of his displeasure can go a long way towards making more… reluctant parties more agreeable. Since Magnus couldn’t wed anyone with a status too much below his own, yours has been decided on with that in mind.”

Alec blinks at her. It’s different to have the importance of the ceremonies explained to him by an actual Warlock and not colored by the lens of Clave judgement. He’d known that the negotiations had been long, but since he was kept out of most of them, he hadn’t quite realized that so much of the process had regarded his status and to make sure he’d be allowed to marry Magnus in the first place. 

But most of all, Alec is put at ease by her informal use of Magnus’ first name. It means that she knows him personally – very well, even – and is probably part of his clan. In some complicated way that Alec still doesn’t quite grasp, they’ll be family of a kind by tomorrow evening.

Relaxing somewhat, Alec looks at the plate filled with ornaments. There’s a lot on there, at least half of which he has no idea how to use. “Do I need to wear all of this? Where does it even go?” He can’t imagine wearing this much gold on his body. He’d perish under the weight.

Catarina smiles at him. “There’s a wide selection, so you can pick items you’ll be comfortable wearing for a long time. Certain items are traditional, of course, and you must wear a certain weight to match your status, but Magnus still wanted to give you options.”

Alec looks at the plate filled with gold jewelry again. There’s so much of it that the tray must be incredibly heavy, but Catarina holds it like it’s nothing. When she lets go of the platter, which hovers in mid-air as she uses both hands to lift two complicated collar-like things, he realises Cat’s holding it up with her magic.

“These are traditionally worn under your shirt,” she explains, “With only the collar visible above your ascot. They’re the biggest mass of gold on your body and responsible for over half of your assigned status.”

“I thought the status items were supposed to be visible for everyone to see? Won’t hiding them beneath my clothes defeat the purpose?” Alec asks, fingers hovering over the jewelry but not quite touching.

Catarina smirks. “All your jewelry will be visible during the mating portion of the ceremony.” She winks.

Alec feels himself flush. It’s not that he doesn’t know he’ll have to be naked in front of representatives of almost the entire Warlock population. He’d read up on all of the ceremonies involved before he had decided to go through with this. The issue is that, ever since he found out that it was going to happen – that, due to the political implications, marrying Magnus means being wedded in a very public mating ceremony – Alec hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Not so much the public part, since he’s been mostly trying to avoid thinking about that aspect of it, but… privately, Alec’s been looking forward to the mating part. It’s more than simple curiosity. Being allowed to touch Magnus freely is a heady thought.

So, now Alec’s blushing while he’s standing naked in front of two people he doesn’t know, trying to decide what jewelry he’ll wear while people watch Magnus claim him in the most intimate of ways. He doesn’t know where to look or what to do with himself, to be honest. Nothing in his life thus far has prepared him for how to deal with this.

Catarina kindly pretends she doesn’t notice his embarrassment. “After showing the most elaborate piece during the mating ceremony, future glimpses of the visible portions will remind people of the weight of gold you’re wearing under your clothes and, thus, of your status,” she explains. Then, when Alec remains frozen in place, unable to make a decision, she gives him some advice. “Honestly, I’d go for comfort. You’ll be wearing this a lot. Think of it as one of the Nephilim crowns your Council wears. At every ceremony and state function, you’ll have to bear the weight of this under your clothes. I’d choose comfort over vanity every time.”

Alec gratefully takes hold of Cat’s words. They give him something practical, a guideline he can follow. He considers the options once more, ultimately dismissing the more ornate pieces in favor of the plainest of the array. It’s made of two parts: a thick golden collar with a separate piece consisting of nine ever-widening loops of hammered gold. At first glance, the chestpiece is deceptively simple, the burnished gleam of the gold speaking for itself, but as Alec looks closer, he can see the beauty of the craftsmanship, the intricacy of the construction, the attention to detail. Even the textured surface of the collar bears subtle detailing in the form of Magnus’ crest, the pattern etched into the front of the golden band where it will rest right over the hollow of Alec’s throat.

Alec can’t look away, breathless with the rightness of it. He nods silently, not trusting himself to speak.

“Excellent choice,” Catarina says, approval in her tone. “The collar will come off, of course. You only need to wear it on formal occasions, but there’s also an obligatory amount of permanent jewelry. Nine pieces, to be precise, to showcase your rank. Some of them will have to be visible at all times, like your clan sign. Ours is traditionally worn in the left ear.” Catarina points to her own, where Alec sees a stud through her cartilage, an amber stone set in gold and surrounded by tiny emeralds and sapphires in a swirling design. The central gem catches and holds the light, seeming to glow from within, its color rich and warm, darker than the gold it’s embedded in. 

Alec recognises the piece as one Magnus wears, and he feels a thrill in his stomach that he’ll be wearing jewelry that marks him as belonging with Magnus. To Magnus. 

Unaware of Alec’s emotions, Catarina continues. “Magnus suggested a ring for your lip and more for your ears, but it’s still your choice.”

Alec nods. He can’t help but lick his bottom lip. He imagines how it would feel to taste metal there, how it would feel to kiss Magnus with a touch of metal between them. He wonders where Magnus wears his gold. He swallows.

“Lip is fine. Ears as well,” Alec says. He’s proud his voice isn’t too husky. “Nothing too complicated, if possible.”

Catarina nods. “We’ll do simple rings. That still means we need at least one more visible piercing.”

Alec remembers the way Magnus shimmers with his jewelry and ponders what he finds attractive about Magnus’ jewelry. Then, he thinks about his own features and how they’ll look together.  He thinks of where he’d like Magnus’ eyes to wander, where he’d like Magnus’ touch to linger against his skin. 

“Maybe do one in my eyebrow.”

Catarina smiles. “That’ll look good on you. Magnus will approve. Have you thought about where you want the others? We can do nipples, belly button, cock, perineum, throat, clavicle…”

“Nipples,” Alec says after some consideration, voice turning breathless. “I’d like rings in my nipples. They can be heavyset.” He thinks of the collar he picked, with its heavy golden chains. “Could you pick ones that match the collar?”

“Yes, and that would definitely add to the required weight. Which leaves us with one other permanent one.”

Alec thinks about it and concludes he doesn’t think he can handle a piercing anywhere near his more private parts. “Let’s do four pins in my right ear,” he says eventually, making his decision. “Make it four instead of the two in my earlobes. One each for my sister, mother, and two brothers.”

Catarina pats him on the shoulder as if to compliment him on his decisions, then snaps her fingers to make a needle appear. “This’ll sting, but I’ll heal them right after, so you’ll only feel some sensitivity for the next few days.”

She makes quick work of Alec’s ear, taking a little more time with his lip and brow. The metal feels strange in his mouth, and he can’t help but touch the ring with his tongue. The pain goes away the moment Catarina touches his mouth with her fingers, but the feeling of something alien in his lip doesn’t disappear, and he can still feel the phantom pain from when she pushed the needle in the meat of his lip.

“These will be the worst. It’s important to breathe through the pain.” Catarina waits for him to nod, then pinches his nipple between her fingers, disinfects the skin, and snaps the needle through it. Alec bites his teeth, swallowing down the cry he wants to let out. He can’t hold back his scent though, the slight sourness of an omega in pain spreading through the tent. Catarina moves on to the other nipple immediately to repeat the process. It’s only when both are done, his whole chest seemingly burning with the sensation, that she calls forth her magic to heal him, the sensation as much of a distraction from the pain as her healing. Cat’s magic coursing through his body feels so different from activating an Iratze; Alec can feel that the energy isn’t coming from within him, and it’s less numbing. 

Alec can’t help but gasp when he carefully presses a fingertip to one of his new nipple rings. His skin still tingles, and when he pulls gently on the ring, the sensation unexpectedly travels down to his cock. Embarrassed, Alec quickly drops his hand, then brings it up to fiddle with the pins in his his ear. The gesture reminds him of Magnus’ mannerisms, which makes him smile.

Catarina lets him get used to his body modifications for a minute, then starts to take apart the main pieces of the chestpiece. Once she’s done detaching the collar, she motions to Alec, the height difference too great for her to put it on him like this. Alec kneels, lowering his head, and Catarina steps closer, lifting the collar from the tray. It has no visible join or clasp, but Catarina waves a hand in a complicated pattern, and a seam reveals itself at the back of the collar. She settles the collar around Alec’s neck and waves her hand. Alec can feel the collar sealing to enclose his throat in gold, and he licks his lips at the reassuring weight of it.

Then, Catarina lifts the second piece over his head, attaching it carefully to the collar before waving a hand again. Alec takes a deep breath and just lets himself feel it. The weight is perfectly balanced, evenly distributed and comforting, the hammered loops nearly reaching to his bellybutton. The joins of the chestpiece are perfect, metal smooth and seamless without a single sharp edge against his skin.

Catarina steps back and considers him, then reaches out to run her hands over the collar, then down the remainder of the chestpiece. As her hands move over the metal, each piece tightens and settles into place, molding to his body, fitting perfectly, as though they belong on him. When Alec moves, the chestpiece moves with him as if it’s a living thing, expanding with each breath, feeling smooth and warm against his skin, so right that it feels familiar already.

With a snap of her fingers, Catarina apparates a mirror. Reverently, Alec admires himself. The gold contrasts nicely with Alec’s dark chest hair and the paleness of his skin. The space between the loops is large enough to let his nipples show through, the redness around his new piercings catching the eye.

Alec feels luxurious and beautiful, spoiled like never before, as if he’s wearing a new skin, about to be a new person.

Catarina doesn’t let him linger too long, and when she nods approvingly after looking Alec over, Elias is right there to hand Alec his new clothes. Alec lets out a breath of relief when he starts to dress himself. They’re a familiar cut, the fine, black fabric speaking of wealth in the same way that decorations or fashionable pieces of clothing would. It feels familiar to tie his ascot, to tuck his shirt into his breeches. No matter how much he’d admired Magnus in his bright and seductive outfit, it’s not something Alec would ever feel comfortable in. But the clothes he’s wearing feel like he would have picked them himself. This might not be his ceremonial outfit for the actual wedding, but it’s a ceremonial outfit all the same, and Alec is relieved that – pierced ears or not – he’ll still feel like himself when he has to face dignitaries.

Elias approaches him with an ornate wooden box that has the Bane crest carved into the lid. “As is traditional, Magnus Bane presents you with three wedding gifts. He has chosen to gift you with Trust, Home, and Happiness.”

Alec curtsies and accepts the box with two hands, a pleased smile curving his lips when he hears that Magnus chose to bless their union with happiness. “I gift Magnus with Protection, Home, and Safety.”

Elias nods seriously. “I’ll present your gifts to your betrothed.”

Catarina smiles at Alec. She steps forward and sets a much smaller box on top of the official one Alec is already holding. “Magnus wanted to give you a personal gift as well,” she whispers, “but he said you should probably open this in the carriage, where you’ll have fewer curious eyes on you.”

Alec nods and takes a moment to thank them both. The whole experience could have been much more awkward, but Catarina had been kind and, despite his aloof manner, Elias had been professional.

Alec curtsies again, then exits the tent to where the Bane carriage awaits him. It’s rather ostentatious, the whole thing adorned with gilded ornaments, but Alec is most fascinated by the absence of horses. Instead, the carriage is pulled by four brass automatons, shaped like stylised horses, standing eerily quiet and still, awaiting their departure.

Alec doesn’t catch the driver’s name, and he has to be quick to rescue his gifts from the eager servant’s hands. It’s a long ride from here to Brooklyn Forest, which lies deep within Warlock country, and Alec wants to see what Magnus picked out for him.

The inside of the carriage is as luxurious as the the outside, and it doesn’t take long for Alec to settle down in the comfortable, red satin pillows. Now that the border crossing is over and done with, his anxiety has settled, and while his stomach is still teeming with butterflies, these are the good kind of nerves. Alec excited and wants to cherish the journey as much as he can. 

He decides to open Magnus’ personal gift first, his curiosity too strong to wait any longer. He opens the box easily enough. The inside is lined with dark golden velvet, soft to the touch. In the center, lies a large golden phallus. It’s slightly curved and completely stylized with a flared base. Alec licks his lips, his tongue catching on his new lip ring. He’s flushed all over just imagining Magnus putting the object into this box and thinking of him. Gifting something this intimate and titillating to him.

Almost breathless, Alec carefully caresses the phallus, following its curve, swallowing when he realises it’s the exact same tint of gold as his brand new jewelry. Then, he picks up the small note folded underneath it.

> Dearest Alexander,
> 
> Unfortunately, politics and customs have kept us apart more than I would have liked. Most of these matters were outside both of our hands, I know, but I cannot help but feel like I’ve been remiss in my wooing you.
> 
> Then again, wooing is both a matter of becoming acquainted and of proving oneself a worthy partner. Neither of those qualities are considered important in arrangements like ours. Nevertheless, I keep thinking about your words, your desire for a chance at happiness.  Despite my magic, I cannot know what the future holds for us. I can only assure you that I’ll try.
> 
> Soon, we’ll be wed, and I realize our customs might seem strange and frightening to you. I’ll do anything in my power to make sure you’re at ease.
> 
> This gift is entirely too forward, for which I can only offer my sincerest apologies. Know that I only offer this token because, regardless of whether or not we find happiness with one another, I wish for you to know pleasure and joy, and I would never want you to feel obligated to look to me as the only possible source of such things.
> 
> Only time can tell if we were right in our decision to chase after happiness together, but I sincerely hope so. I still remain, forever so
> 
>  
> 
> Cordially yours,
> 
> M.B.

 

It’s too personal a note for a mere marriage of convenience and far too personal a gift for a political union, but it feels just right to Alec. It’s too forward and decidedly far out of his comfort zone, but the phallus convinces Alec that he’s made the right choice. Magnus isn’t afraid to be himself, to wave farewell to decorum and politics and do what he thinks is right, and that’s exactly what Alec wants. Someone courageous enough to follow their heart. Someone who will give him a chance to be himself.

Alec closes the box, not needing to see the lush velvet or the golden toy to think of ways for using it. With his cock already half hard, the occasional thoughts of tomorrow’s ceremony only increase his desire. His nipples are rubbing against the fabric of his shirt, his skin still sensitive, and the sensation of cloth on his chains and piercings novel. Magnus isn’t even nearby, but Alec’s whole body is tingling, and Alec basks in it for a moment.

He still has other gifts to open, however, so when his heartbeat has finally returned to normal, Alec opens the large box, only to find three smaller boxes inside, each engraved with a familiar rune. Trust, Home, and Happiness. Alec traces them slowly, touched by the fact Magnus went through the effort of looking up runes, especially because they’re not Clave runes but runes of the old Nephilim language, now long-forgotten except in traditions like these.

Alec smiles when he traces the last box, the smallest one. He likes the blessings Magnus chose for him — he hopes Magnus is equally pleased with his — but he likes this one most, because they both chose to bless especially the fact that they both chose to bless their Home. So, this is the box he opens first. 

It’s a simple small wooden box with no decoration other than the rune on the lid. Inside, it’s equally unadorned, but the wood has been polished to a shine, and the natural grain of the wood makes it appear almost painted. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, and not quite what Alec had expected of Magnus. But he likes it a great deal, his fingers running over its surface, feeling the craftsmanship of the wood. He carefully lifts the lid to find a big brass key. It looks old, the metal marred with age, and the head very ornamental. There’s no note of what the key might be for, and when Alec picks it out of the box, it sizzles in his hand, obviously brimming with magic. He gently puts it back in its place, taking a closer look with it safely in the box. He thinks he recognizes the Bane Crest engraved into the head of the key, but it’s too timeworn to make sure.

Still, Alec’s heart skips a beat. Because if he’s right, then this is the key to Bane Manor, and if so, then Magnus gave him the key to his home. A magical key that can do… who knows what. 

And… they’re going to share a home. Not a house. A home. A home for the both of them.

Slightly breathless, Alec closes the box, eagerly picking up the next one. This one is a little bigger, and it’s made out of the same polished wood. There doesn’t seem to be a way for it to be opened, no matter which way Alec looks at it. He runs his fingers over the box, looking for a groove or opening, but finds nothing but smooth wood. “I thought this one was about trust,” Alec mumbles to himself. Then, he turns the box over, his wrist accidentally grazing it in the process, pressing his scent gland against the wood. With a sudden click, the box opens, its lid sliding aside to reveal a book, its cover gilded and pages lined with gold.

When Alec picks it up, he can smell the dust of old libraries and feel the way age and use have turned the leather of the cover satiny smooth. It takes him a while to decipher the calligraphy and scribbled notes in the margins inside, but when Alec realizes what these pages hold, he gasps. He leafs back through the pages to the front of the book, and there on the frontispiece is an etch of Magnus, with the initials M.B embossed underneath. Alec presses his fingers to the handsome profile on the page, thinking about Magnus’ warm eyes and the way he looks at Alec. Then, with a dreamy sigh, he closes the book.

It’s a spell book. 

Alec can’t believe Magnus gifted him something this personal and precious. A show of trust indeed. “I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers to the book, honored to the core. He carefully puts it back inside of its box, letting out a sigh of relief when it closes securely again.

Only the last box remains, its lid engraved with the rune for Happiness. Unlike the other two, this one is very ornamental, its surface covered with ornate carvings and a fine gilded filigree. It’s beautiful and obviously worth a great deal, and Alec wonders for a moment if the box itself is the present, a way of giving him access to funds of his own, like a personal dowry. Then, the locking mechanism opens with a click, and soft ticking sounds continue to emanate from the box as Alec opens it further. Two small figures rise up as if following the lid, and once it’s completely open, a soft tune fills the carriage. 

Magnus has given him a music box.

Alec gasps, the first notes of the melody so familiar they immediately fill him with comfort and love. He quietly hums along, eyes closed for a moment, remembering all the nights he’d sung the song to Izzy. He doesn’t remember his mother singing it to him or teaching him, although she must have. But he remembers Izzy’s tiny hands in his and the scent of her hair when she’d hugged him, remembers her sleepy voice as she asked him to sing it “just one more time, Alec.”

Alec is utterly astonished, his heart filling with warmth. How did Magnus know? Of all the songs in the world, how did Magnus select one that’s so deeply meaningful to him? Magnus has given him happiness indeed. He opens his eyes to inspect the figures and gasps again in shock. It’s two men dancing, moving in a complicated pattern. The necessary clockwork alone would be impressive, and Alec suspects there must be magic involved, but that’s not what touches him so strongly. 

The dancing men are tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired. One is wearing a traditional dark suit, the other a blue coat with golden adornments. 

It’s them.

More than that, it’s them taking the first few steps towards each other, swirling into the patterns of their first dance, a memory forever captured in clockwork.

Alec can’t help but touch, completely mesmerized by the gift. Ever so carefully, he reaches out and touches the figurine of Magnus, his fingertip brushing reverently over the rich color and fine detail.

He’s going to marry this man.

Soon, Magnus will be his husband.

His  _ alpha _ .

By the time they arrive at the Brooklyn Forest, Alec’s scent has filled the small carriage. He smells of hope.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the gratitude to Irene, the best beta I could ever wish for. I'd be unmoored without you, darling.
> 
> In what is becoming somewhat traditional for me, this has expanded, and will probably end up at four chapters and an epilogue.
> 
> Added to that, there's been a death in my close circle, which means I'll be updating this every other week from now on.


	3. Preparations

Alec lies awake in the dark and unfamiliar room. Tomorrow is his wedding day, a long day filled with ceremonies and social obligations. It would behoove him to be well-rested, but Alec finds sleep keeps escaping him. The sheets, while made of the finest material Alec's ever touched, seem to scratch his skin, and the pillows, though plump and filled with the softest downy feathers, feel lumpy. He's given up on the pillows all together and is now resting his head directly on the mattress, which feels hard and cool in comparison to the soft pillows, but at least that particular discomfort reminds him somewhat of home.

His mother had always favored a firm mattress.

There's restless energy simmering in Alec’s blood, and no matter how much he tries to put himself at ease by going over old Clave edicts or trying to mentally order Amendments to the Law into a more sensible system, the restlessness won't be ignored. None of his usual methods help him to slumber, and Alec remains awake. 

His mind keeps straying to the box, to Magnus' gift lying untouched on its velvet pillow. Alec has never owned anything like it, nor has he ever used anything of the sort. Omegas of his standing aren’t supposed to pleasure themselves, not even during heats. But thanks to Jace, he's heard many a lewd tale, and the images flooding his head are insistent, only making his blood stir more.

Alec has only been thinking about tomorrow's ceremony in practical terms, running through what needs to be done in what order. The thing is, while Alec hasn't let himself think about it, now that there's nothing left for him to learn or do in preparation, he can't help but think about the pivotal ceremony that'll tie him to Magnus in body and soul.

The mating.

Normally, this part of the ceremony would take place in private, not in front of many assembled witnesses. Alec can't help but worry that he'll make an embarrassment out of himself in front of a crowd of strangers and that he'll somehow fuck up badly enough that he’ll jeopardize the whole arrangement.

Being experienced in matters of the flesh wouldn’t become an omega of Alec’s standing, and yet, Alec feels he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Because of his nerves and inexperience, he could lose his chance at a life free from the constraints of the Clave. He could lose  _ Magnus. _ And Alec couldn’t bear that.

He wouldn’t mind fumbling if it was only with Magnus. He thinks Magnus would be kind about it, would put him at ease. He’d look at Alec with that glint in his eyes, a teasing smile curved around his lips. He’d whisper something outrageous, maybe press a kiss to Alec’s wrist…

Alec sighs, a long shuddering breath betraying his nerves to the darkness surrounding him. He knows why the public ceremony is necessary, knows that it's because it's a political marriage. He also knows that the bonding of their souls, which are born of different magic, requires both witnesses and power. Specifically, the power to overcome the natural inclination of one’s innate magic to retreat from the influence of magic it perceives as foreign — although Alec can't ever imagine  _ any _ part of him retreating from Magnus — and witnesses to make sure that no foul magic is at play and no one is bound against their will. It's about trust and honesty, and Alec has understood all of this since even before he put himself forth as a candidate.

That doesn't mean Alec isn't still nervous like it's his first dance as a debutant out in Society. Now that the ceremony is only a couple of hours away, he can't help but wish that both he and Magnus were normal people who’d met at a ball, whose match and betrothal had been approved by their parents, who would have a simple wedding amongst friends and family and a mating with just the two of them.

But they aren't. Magnus is the High Warlock of his clan, and Alec is the representative of his people.

Biting his lip, Alec comes to a conclusion. His whole life, he's prepared and learned and trained for everything that was required of him. And he has brought all those skills to bear on this situation as well, studying all the intricacies of the local Warlock clans and families, the history and meaning of the myriad rituals he'll be part of, the minutiae of the changes in the border law his marriage will ensure. He has prepared for the meals he's supposed to share with his new Clan, for the spells he’ll have to participate in. The only thing he couldn't prepare for was the magical bonding itself, but it’s only logical he’d train for the physical aspects to make sure he can do it and won’t freeze up.

Decision made, he sits up in the dark room. The room has a simple layout without too much furniture, so Alec foregoes a candle, even though he can't use his Darkvision Rune anymore. He's been thinking about the box so much this evening that he finds it easily even in the dark, the placement of it on the dresser burned into his memory.

Alec takes out his gift gently, fingers gliding over the smooth gold. Carefully he feels around inside the box, finding nothing but the velvet pillow at first. He heaves out a sigh of relief when his fingertips brush finds the shape of a small, glass vial. Though he’s an omega, he's not in heat, and without an alpha’s pheromones, he'd never get wet enough to take the dildo. It's the reason he wants to practice. His biggest fear, one he hasn't dared think about, is that he and Magnus might not be as compatible as he thinks they'll be, that the Ceremonial Drink won't take and he won't go into pseudo-heat… and that the whole bonding will fail.

At least this way, he'll be able to get his body ready.

Stomach swirling with nerves, Alec makes his way back to the bed, golden toy and vial clutched to his chest. He pushes the sheets to the bottom of the bed, then gets comfortable on the mattress. Taking a deep breath, he skims his fingers over the smooth surface of the toy, familiarizing himself with the shape of it. It's cool to the touch, although warmer where he's been holding it in his hand. There's a slight curve to it and a slight increase in girth the closer to the base he gets, but it's a stylistic representation rather than an actual likeness of a cock. Alec finds that he prefers that. He doesn't think he'd survive the embarrassment of having to touch a more realistic cock, even under the cover of darkness.

When he thinks he's got a decent feel for the toy and is familiar with its measurements and the weight of it in his hands, Alec puts it down on his stomach and reaches for the vial again. He pulls out the cork with his teeth, the popping sound loud in the quiet room. He carefully spreads some of the fluid over his fingers. It's scentless and tasteless, and it feels slightly oily and smooth between his fingers. He plants his feet on the mattress, then reaches down to touch himself between his legs, fingers dancing over his cock before dipping down. It's mostly a teasing touch, exploring himself while he tests out the fluid. It must be magical in some way because it doesn't dry out and remains smooth and silky on his skin, making him slippery but not too much. Alec's breaths become heavier when he thinks of the possibility that Magnus made this himself. He's not sure what the market is for wares like this, doesn't know if Magnus specializes in potions like this, but the possibility alone is enough to make Alec feel hot under his skin.

Now that his thoughts have gone back to Magnus, his cock swiftly grows to full hardness. He strokes himself a couple of times, then dips down again, this time with more intent. He's impatient and pushes the first finger in a little too quickly, but the burn urges him on rather than discouraging him. It only proves that he was right to practice this.

Alec spreads more of the oil on his fingers, then pushes inside himself again, focusing on stretching the tense muscles. It's not the most pleasant feeling, but thoughts of Magnus’ open collar and the way Magnus moves his hands when he talks keep Alec aroused enough that his skin stays flushed and his cock stays hard. It’s not much longer before he can push in another finger, then a third one shortly thereafter. He thinks the dildo is a little thicker still, but it's also smoother, and Alec craves  _ more _ . 

So, he spreads some of the fluid over the dildo, spilling some of it onto his stomach, then he lowers the toy between his legs, which are spread wide, soles of his feet pressed flat against the mattress. At first, the pressure feels like too much, not even the tip fitting inside. Alec breathes out deeply, lets himself relax, and tries to forget about everything. Everything but Magnus and the glint in his eyes, the shine of lips, and the hint of gold at the back of his tongue — all things Alec will be able to see whenever he wants from now on.

He thinks about what it'll feel like to have those ringed fingers on his skin, and he can feel himself flush at the thought. And just like that, the dildo slips inside, Alec opening up almost easily for it. He can smell his own arousal now, the slick between his legs more than just artificial. The dildo goes deeper than his fingers, and when he twists it so that the curve of it is angled just right, he can reach a spot inside him that feels like it lights him up. Alec gasps in the darkness, his back arching. The burn of opening himself up has faded completely and only pleasure remains. He thinks of Magnus' gaze upon him, thinks of those elegant fingers touching his burning skin.

In a matter of moments, Alec spills to completion with the golden dildo buried deep inside himself, legs splayed open and Magnus’ name upon his lips.

Alec’s still catching his breath when a new thought occurs to him — what if he doesn't last long enough for the magic to take hold? What if he's too easy instead of too closed off like he’d feared? His heart skips a beat, but when he breathes out, he finds the thought doesn't linger. He's too satisfied to worry anymore, and can actually feel how tired he is now. If it does turn out that he's too easy, that he comes too quickly for the bonds between them to form, Magnus will just have to fuck him through it.

Now, though, Alec can’t help but find that possibility somewhat appealing.

He falls asleep with a contented smile on his lips, the room smelling of satisfaction.

* * *

In the morning, Alec is ushered to a big common bathroom, where he’s disrobed and very thoroughly washed, the process completed by steaming the traces of any scent lingering on his skin, even his own.

When Alec steps out of the steam room, the servants have cleared out his clothes. Instead, there's a small dais and a side table with little pots and brushes and a ceremonial knife.

Alec's inspecting the knife without touching it when another door opens and Magnus walks in, as naked as Alec, his makeup and necklaces gone. Alec’s eyes dart down, wandering over Magnus' chest and abs, the strong lines of his thighs, his cock resting against dark hair, then dart back up again to the golden bars adorning his nipples.

"Alexander," Magnus greets him warmly.

Alec's still flushed from the steam, but he can still feel himself grow hot in the face as he tries not to stare at Magnus’ prodigious cock. He settles back into parade rest, but somehow, without clothes, resting his hands behind his back makes it feel like he's presenting himself or showing off, so Alec awkwardly decides to curtsy.

The corner of Magnus' mouth lifts up when he sees Alec bow clumsily, and he curtsies back with a flourish of his hand, seemingly unbothered by his nakedness.

“I thought there would be servants here,” Alec says, eyeing the room in a panic. “Surely we’re breaking some kind of protocol?”

 “Don’t worry about protocol. Catarina is right outside keeping them at bay for a moment.” Magnus waves absently at the door, then focuses back on Alec. “I wanted to see you.”

“Oh,” Alec says softly. He hadn’t expected to be alone with Magnus, let alone completely naked, and now he’s utterly unprepared for how to act or what to do. It’s so… scandalous. If they weren’t already in the midst of their wedding preparations, surely they’d be forced to marry when they were caught.

Magnus must notice he’s flustered, because after a few beats of awkward silence, he starts talking. “I’m glad you made it safely. You left your family in good health, I hope?"

For a moment, Alec is mystified by the shift in conversation, but then he tries to settle into the familiar back and forth of small talk in polite society. "Yes, my family is in good health, thank you."

"And your travel?"

"Very smooth. Thank you." Alec bites his lip, but social courtesy demands it, so he adds: "I'd like to thank you for your… unexpected gift. It was a wonderful surprise."

Alec can feel Magnus' eyes travel over his body, can feel the warmth of Magnus’ smirk. Since Magnus entered the room, he’s looked different, naked in a way Alec hadn’t expected without his makeup and his fancy clothes, but the moment he arches his brow, he looks like the Magnus Alec met in the parlor again, self-assured and confident, the wicked glint in his eyes tempting Alec to... to do all the things he’d never dared dream about but had held close to his heart anyway.

"I'm gratified my gift pleased you so," Magnus says, then tilting his head. "At least, I assume it was pleasing. It's always hard to gauge these things with regard to preferences for size and girth and so on. Or maybe you're a less traditional omega and your inclinations lie elsewhere? I hope I wasn't too presumptuous." Magnus talks about his gift like it's an ill-fitting coat or an unflattering portrait and not something deeply intimate and personal. But, for once, he's not quite looking Alec in the eye, and his fingers trail over the shell of his ear like he's feeling for the absent ear-cuff that's been haunting Alec's dreams these past weeks. Maybe he’s more nervous than his tone of voice would imply.

"No, not at all, I-" Alec stammers in his eagerness to put Magnus at ease and assure him how much he appreciated his gift. Truthfully, Alec has no idea what kind of omega he is, but with Magnus, he thinks he’d like to find out, though he doesn’t dare address that comment directly. Yes, the gift had been surprising and incredibly forward, and Alec's flushing just due to the fact that they're mentioning it, but he's also grateful that tonight — under the watching eyes of the Warlock population — isn't the first time he'll open himself up. "It was thoughtful," he says, voice low and husky. "I was worried about... that I wouldn't be able to... and now, I know I can. So... thank you." 

Even though they've both been steamed until they were cleansed thoroughly, Alec can smell himself, the scent of arousal mingling with the resulting embarrassment and confusion and nerves to fill up the room. Magnus steps closer, nostrils flaring, and Alec flushes even more, worried that if he can't get his emotions under control, he'll have to be cleansed again. He's not used to reacting so strongly to people, isn't used to having so much trouble controlling his physical response. In a way, it'll be a relief to be married to Magnus because then, Alec won't have to be embarrassed anymore about his attraction. He'll be allowed to be wanton then, even though it'll still cause some talk in polite company.

Alec’s slightly shocked by how much he  _ wants _ to be wanton.

He takes a deep breath, the tips of his ears turning red when it's not only his own interest he can detect in the air. "We should... there's no time."  _ Nor is it proper _ .

"Ah yes, duty calls." Magnus sighs wistfully. "A long day of pompous ceremony and people putting their noses where they aren't wanted… when I'd much rather get this over with."

Alec leans back, frowning. He hasn't been looking forward to the long day of social obligations either, but he's at least been curious about some parts of it.

Magnus must see something in his expression because he steps forward, holding out a hand as if to calm Alec like he would gentle a spooked horse, then dropping his hand again without quite touching Alec. "Oh no, Alexander, I didn't mean it like that," Magnus says. "I meant that I wish we could have a simple wedding with just the two of us.”

Alec's shoulders relax, a smile spreading over his face. He's familiar with that particular sentiment, at least. "Indeed. I could have done with less people," he agrees, anxious to move forward from the awkwardness.

Magnus grins, that now-familiar glint back in his eyes. "Exactly. I’d wanted it to be just the two of us when I finally make you mine." His voice grows hoarse when he says 'mine,' like he's already claiming Alec with his words. 

"Oh," Alec croaks, flushing again. Magnus pretends he doesn't notice and instead waves at the ceremonial table right next to them. "Alas, politics and custom prevent us from having the ceremony we might have preferred. I fear this is the only moment we'll have in private today, which is why I threw caution to the wind and stole it for us. We should probably make the most of it before the servants descend upon us.”

Alec nods, still too overcome to properly respond. It's a lot to go from never having been alone with Magnus for longer than a couple of minutes – except that one time in his parent's house when Jace had left them unchaperoned – to being here in this foreign room, not only alone with Magnus but completely naked and talking so freely about desire. Especially because desire wasn't supposed to be a part of this arrangement.

So Alec remains silent, skin pink, his scent still filling the room. But he follows Magnus to the table, looking with interest at the golden powder in the wooden bowls, the fragile-looking pencils, the oils in elegant vases, and the razor-sharp blade of the  ceremonial knife. He must look with something like trepidation at the last one, because Magnus leans in a little closer, his scent becoming somehow warmer and soothing. "As we are of different worlds, there are inherent differences between our innate magics,” Magnus explains. “In order to make sure the mating takes, that your magic recognizes mine, that they meld as they ought, we must complete a precautionary ritual that requires the sacrifice of our blood.”

Alec nods. This sacred ceremony is ancient, older even than the divide between their people, and a very similar one can still be read about in the Clave library. He'd studied the details while still in Alicante and pored over the scrolls Magnus had sent him once they were betrothed. Alec holds out his hand, palm up, then flushes when he realises the invitation implicit in the gesture. For a moment, Magnus seems to hesitate, but then, he gently takes Alec's hand, Magnus’ nimble fingers gliding over his wrist, thumb resting on his pulse-point.

Alec holds his breath, eyes focused on where Magnus is touching him until Magnus’ voice breaks the enchantment.

“I promise I’ll cherish you,” Magnus says, voice trembling slightly. Then he ducks down and presses his lips to Alec’s wrist, right over his scent glands so Alec’s pulse beats against his mouth.

Alec lets out a shuddering breath. “I-”

Something clatters in the hallway, and accompanied by a flurry of activity, Catarina enters the room. Both Alec and Magnus step back, hands dropping to their sides. Alec’s face is burning now. Even his  _ ears _ must be red, but at least he’s not the only one. Magnus’ cheeks are flushed too, and he’s not quite looking at either Alec or Catarina.

Catarina is followed by a plethora of servants, who can't quite keep their shock from their faces once they realize that Alec and Magnus have been left unchaperoned. But at least they refrain from commenting, letting Alec stew in his embarrassment in silence. When he's finally able to look up, Magnus's face has returned to its normal color, an arched brow aimed at the servants as if to dare them to comment. Alec catches Catarina roll her eyes at her friend. It puts Alec at ease. They have at least one person in their corner here.

So he follows Magnus and Catarina up on the dais, stepping forward when Catarina beckons to him. "We need to mix the paint," she says, reaching for the ceremonial knife. Alec swallows but offers her his arm without hesitation. She's quick and precise about it, and while the cut stings, it's a superficial one. She catches his blood in a wooden bowl, its surface worn smooth with age and use, unadorned except for the golden residual shine on the inside of it that tells of the bowl being used for this very purpose for many years. Once Catarina has collected enough blood, she heals the cut, the skin rapidly returning to its unblemished state. She repeats the process with Magnus, who doesn't flinch when she cuts into his skin but clenches and releases his fingers to make the blood flow more rapidly.

Alec watches their blood pool and mingle, the dark red of it a stark contrast against the golden coating on the bowl. They are so different, Magnus and he, their people and their culture, their personality and position, their history and magic, but their blood is the same hue. Slowly, Catarina adds various oils and powders to the bowl, mixing it carefully. Finally, she stirs gold dust into their blood, whispering an incantation with each movement until the red has turned to gold.

Alec's heart starts to beat a little faster. He knows what comes next, has been looking forward to it as much as he's been dreading that he’ll fuck it up somehow. But despite his nerves, when Catarina hands him the brush, Alec's hand is steady. He's studied the law, studied the ceremonies, but most of all, he’s studied this: the ceremonial markings that are to be the conduit for the merging of their magic.

He takes a moment to study Magnus, trying to look at him as an artist might look at a fresh canvas, trying to learn the topography of his skin so Alec’s markings can be perfect. But his eyes keep catching on little distracting details, like the small birthmark on Magnus’ shoulder, like the pulse Alec can see fluttering in the hollow of his throat, like the way Alec could get lost looking over all that smooth, smooth skin, but his eyes keep going back to the faint dark trail leading down to neatly trimmed pubic hair. Alec doesn’t quite look further down.

Taking another deep breath, he dips the brush into the golden paint, then bends down so he can carefully apply it to Magnus’ offered wrist right above the scent glands. He moves his hand, dragging the brush up Magnus’ arm in big swoops, curling around the curve of Magnus’ muscles in a continuous, gleaming line.

Alec takes his time, carefully moving the brush over Magnus’ skin, making sure the paint is spread evenly and all his strokes connect. He makes his way up Magnus’ arm, carefully following his collar-bone to the hollow of his throat, where Alec can’t help but linger for a moment. Then, starting at Magnus’ other wrist, he repeats the pattern.

By the time Alec reaches Magnus’ chest, both of them are breathing heavily, and Alec has to fight a tremor in his wrist from the intensity of the temptation to drop the brush altogether and touch Magnus with his fingers instead.

But Catarina is watching, the  _ servants _ are watching, and Alec shouldn’t. 

So, he ignores his base desire and keeps focusing on getting the ceremonial markings right. 

“I do believe you’re blushing, Alexander,” Magnus breaks the silence. Alec looks up at him, taking in the sight of Magnus’ chest covered in wet paint, catching the light with each breath. “Hold still,” is all he says, not commenting on Magnus’ own darkened cheeks.

The symbols swirling down Magnus’ thighs and calves are tricky and complicated, something to do with the earthing of magic, and Alec bites his bottom lip while he concentrates. Above him, Magnus stifles a soft sound, almost a little moan, and Alec starts to understand that maybe Magnus is as affected as he is. That Magnus might want Alec the same way Alec wants him, with eager anticipation and nervous desire and an almost irrevocable need to  _ touch. _

Hesitantly and carefully, Alec touches a finger to the delicate bone of Magnus’ ankle, breath hitching while he pretends to be painting, hoping no one will see. Magnus lets out another muffled moan, his toes curling into the wooden floor, and behind him, Alec can hear Catarina shift her weight in what Alec takes as a warning to behave. 

Taking a deep breath to regain his control, Alec lets go of Magnus’ foot, and slowly rises, resisting the temptation to look at Magnus’ body, not looking Magnus in the eyes. Alec’s afraid that if their eyes meet, he will do something reckless and stupid like moving forward and touching Magnus’ broad chest, trailing his fingertips over all the markings he just painted, or maybe something even more shameless, like  _ kissing _ Magnus…

Now truly flushed, Alec hands Catarina back the brush and stands back. It’s his turn to be painted. His hands move to his back almost of their own accord, seeking the comfort of a familiar position, and Alec has to force himself to move them to hang at his sides.

Magnus’ cheeks are still suspiciously dark, and there’s a  _ heat _ to his gaze that wasn’t there before Alec touched him, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he dips his brush into the paint bowl and steps closer.

The markings Magnus gives Alec are different, based more on the Nephilim runes than on Warlock magic. Alec knew that this would be the case, that his own inherent magic would respond better to the use of rune magic than any other kind, but he still wasn’t quite prepared for the feeling of Magnus’ brush moving over the sensitive skin  of his neck in a very familiar shape — the rune that was taken from his skin only a day ago, one that has nothing to do with their mating ceremony but everything to do with Lightwood traditions. Alec has to swallow away the emotion cropping up in his throat, blinking profusely. 

Magnus doesn’t stop. He is as meticulous as Alec was, every touch of the brush on Alec’s skin feeling deliberate. The strands of the brush tip tickle slightly and the wet paint feels odd, but mostly, it feels like Magnus is touching him, touching every part of Alec’s body and leaving Alec breathless.

He covers Alec’s arms and chest with runes and Warlock sigils, connecting them with swooping swirls alternated with sudden breaks in a pattern Alec doesn’t recognize. By the time Magnus is kneeling at his feet to work on his legs, Alec is as flushed as he was when he was doing the painting himself, and he too has to bite back a moan when Magnus touches his ankle in the same spot where Alec touched him before. Where the brush had felt cool against his skin, Magnus’ touch seems to be burning, a soft, hot slide of skin trailing the curve of his ankle-bone.

Alec gasps, and behind him he can hear someone tsk, but Magnus doesn’t move away until he’s trailed his finger all the way down to Alec’s toe.

Alec might faint.

Magnus slowly stands up and then, he  _ does _ look Alec in the eye, and for a moment, it feels like Magnus might be the one to throw decorum to the wind and kiss Alec’s breath from his lips. Alec can feel himself lean in, can feel the heat radiating off of Magnus skin.

That's when the servants descend upon them once more, forcing Magnus to step back and leading them both away in opposite directions. 

Piece by piece, the attendants adorn Alec with his chosen jewelry, the weight of it as unfamiliar as before but nevertheless having a centering effect on him. When he looks at himself in the mirror, the odd pattern suddenly makes sense, runes and sigils connecting to his piercings and jewelry, forming a closed circuit of gold.

Alec shimmers from head to toe, golden paint making a striking contrast with his black hair, the painted markings helping to fill the absence of his runes. He almost doesn’t recognize himself.

He looks  _ beautiful _ .

Then, the servants start to dress him, covering all that gold with his midnight blue ceremonial suit, leaving out the cravat so the golden collar shows through instead, a shimmering reminder of his soon-to-be-husband.

Alec carefully touches the metal. He can feel the thrum of his heart beat against the weight of it.

This is it.

All the preparation, all the negotiating and studying, all the dreams and wishes, all his hopes; they all lead to this: Alexander Lightwood is about to be wed to Magnus Bane.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iris saved this chapter, so kudos to the most amazing beta to ever beta <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ashe for her patience with me, and for organizing the 3B Countdown Event. It was fun, I'm glad I participated, and the fic in the collection is SO GOOD.
> 
> Thanks to Iris for the beta as always, for talking things through with me and not killing me after all my deadline kissing. Thanks to Jilly for being a soundboard in my time of need.
> 
> I wrote most of this fic while sunk in a pit of depression, because it was the only thing I could always somehow write. It's the most self-indulgent thing I ever wrote, but I love it anyway.
> 
> Title is inspired by The Silver Lining by First Aid Kit, which is also where the quote at the start comes from.


End file.
